Simple Conversation
by Avalon Estel
Summary: Companion piece to vignette Fated Meetings. Glorfindel and Maglor struggle to make it in our world while dealing with their past. Modernday, AU, no slash.
1. The Cafe

Simple Conversation

A/N: This is dedicated to my friend Rhys for being a wonderful writer, friend, source of encouragement, and providing the idea for this story, which is a companion piece to my other one-shot "Fated Meetings". You should read it first.

* * *

Glorfindel walked into his apartment and pulled off his jacket, hanging it on the hook behind the door. With a sigh, he dropped onto his sofa and picked up his remote control. Just as he was about to hit the "power" button, he saw a light blinking on the answering machine. He got to his feet and touched the play button. 

The first message began to play. A young woman's voice said, "Mr. Laurence Fendell, this is Dr. Martin's receptionist. I'm calling to inform you that your appointment with Dr. Martin is set for 9:30 am next Tuesday."

"I was wondering when they'd call me back," Glorfindel muttered. He was supposed to interview that doctor, and his boss had been hassling him about it.

The second started. This time it was a man, and Glorfindel vaguely recognized his voice. "_Sulaid_, Balrog-Slayer. This is Maglor. I know we haven't been in touch lately. We met on the beach four months ago? I was wondering if perhaps you'd like to meet me at a coffee shop that I frequent. We could…get to know each other, if you'd like. Call me back if you accept." He continued on with his phone number.

Glorfindel stared at the answering machine in shock. The tape had shut off, but he was still hearing the voice. He hadn't forgotten the meeting with Maglor, or how they'd parted ways afterward. He still dreamt of the songs Maglor had played that evening, for it had been so long since he'd heard the music of his people, and he loved it with every bit of his soul. It was so different from the rock and alternative that everyone listened to now.

Almost hesitant, he lifted the phone from the receiver and dialed in Maglor's number. On the third ring, a quiet voice answered. "Hello?"

"_Suliad_, Maglor. This is Glorfindel. I wanted to take you up on your offer."

* * *

Maglor walked into the café, a scarf wrapped around his neck and heavy gloves on his hands. He'd left his harp at home, knowing that it would attract attention in a coffee shop this busy. He pushed the door open and looked around for Glorfindel. There. His hair, longer than most men wore it nowadays, hung to his shoulders and made him quite conspicuous as he sat next to the window. His hands were clasped tightly under his chin as he stared out at the masses of people walking past. Maglor himself had never even cut his raven-black hair, and it hung down his back in a long ponytail. 

Maglor walked up to the table. Glorfindel didn't notice him at first, but then he stiffened as he felt the other Elf's presence. He looked up at him. "Hello, Maglor."

Maglor nodded and sat down in the chair opposite him.

"Where is you harp?" Glorfindel asked.

"I left it at home," Maglor replied, an undercurrent of warning in his voice.

"Ah, I see your point," the blonde Elf replied. "So how have you fared?"

Maglor, who was removing his coat, shrugged. "The same as I have fared since the First Age, I suppose," he said, hanging it on the back of his chair. "And you?"

"The same."

There was a long silence as they searched for something to say. A young woman with dark hair walked up to the table, a pad and pencil in hand. She started to ask something, but stopped, startled at their appearances. Both wearing sable clothing, one jet-black haired, the other with pale gold, both looking intent and quiet. Why, they looked like a painting, what with their proud, perfectly-carved features. Gathering herself, she asked, "What can I get you gentlemen?" She didn't usually say "gentlemen", but for some reason, they seemed…nobler than everyone else.

The blonde smiled at her. "I'll have a small espresso." He looked at the dark-haired one. "What would you like? It's on me." _Valar_, he thought. _I'm starting to talk like them._

"Oh, I'll have anything," Maglor said quietly.

"Make that two small espressos," the other Elf said. The girl nodded and walked off, looking back at them from over her shoulder.

"She notices something," Maglor said.

"Aye," Glorfindel nodded.

"Glorfindel, what are you still doing here?" asked the harpist.

"You should lower you voice," Glorfindel said. "Someone will think we are criminals. And please call me 'Laurence'."

"Laurence?" Maglor asked.

"It's the name I've taken," Glorfindel said. "Laurence Fendell. My closer acquaintances call me 'Lor'. If you say 'Lor Fendell', it sounds like my real name."

Maglor noticed he had said "acquaintances" instead of "friends". "But why are you still here?"

"I'm not ready," Glorfindel said solemnly. "I just feel some sort of hold to Arda. I suppose it's the twins, as well. And a little hope that things may be as they once were."

"You know that's impossible," Maglor gently rebuked.

"But one can wish."

Just then, the waitress came back and set their coffees on the table. She smiled at them as she left.

"She looks like Lady Arwen," Glorfindel said fondly.

"She does," Maglor nodded.

Glorfindel smiled, sipping at his coffee. He choked. It was still too hot, even for an Elf.

Maglor chuckled. "Who knows? Perhaps she is of the Lady's bloodline."

"Perhaps," Glorfindel nodded.

"What do you do now?" Maglor asked.

"I work as a journalist."

"High status?"

"No," Glorfindel said, sighing. "I get pushed around by a man who resembles a Halfling and smokes a cigar. A sad fate for an Elf-Lord, wouldn't you agree?"

"Aye, sad it is," Maglor answered. "I play in a small orchestra."

"Well, at least you can gain money from your talents. I do a little bit of painting on the side, but my work never sells."

"What do you paint?"

"The sea."

Again, silence.

Glorfindel sighed, put his head in his hands. "I miss the days of old, when we lived in splendor and among our own. What happened? Now we're objects of stories and tales that no one believes in, save children with imaginations and hopes."

"I know," Maglor said, trying to ease Glorfindel. "But at least you have Valinor to think of."

"But you don't," Glorfindel said sadly.

"No, I don't," the harpist agreed, shaking his head. He looked up at Glorfindel's distressed expression. "Do not grieve for me, brother. I reap my reward."

"It is a fate no one deserves," Glorfindel retorted softly. "You least of all."

Maglor finished his coffee. "Until I met you that day, I knew not that any of our kind still roamed Arda," he said.

"I knew there were others, but I never expected to run into _you_."

"Nor did I," Maglor said. "You isolate yourself?"

Glorfindel nodded. "I don't make friends with others. I know they would pass on, and I'd remain, and I'd have to reveal myself to them when they aged and I didn't. It was hard enough to be parted from Elrond and Erestor without losing other friends, as well."

Maglor nodded. "I understand."

"And now these mortals have destroyed our old havens, and cut down our forests, and poisoned the rivers, and wage endless war on their own kind," the blonde Elf said.

"It's a very terrible thing, this world," Maglor said, his head bowed.

They didn't say anything for a while. Then, Glorfindel smiled. "Would you like to stick together?"

Maglor looked up at him. "You mean, stay in touch?"

"Exactly. We can keep each other company."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Good!" Glorfindel grinned. He got to his feet and began to pull on his jacket. "I have to cover a parade tomorrow morning, so I'll have to rest. Shall I meet you here tomorrow evening?"

"I would like that," Maglor nodded, smiling slightly.

"Wonderful," Glorfindel said, laying a hand on Maglor's shoulder. "Try to cheer up." He placed the money for the coffee on the table. With a little wave, he swept out of the café and into the chilly air. Maglor lingered, watching the sun go down and the city light up. The waitress came by a little while later.

"Is this for your coffees?" she asked.

Maglor nodded.

She stared at the bills. "Why, this is twenty-five dollars!" she exclaimed. "You only owe seven!"

"Keep the change," Maglor said, marveling himself at Glorfindel's generosity.

"I couldn't, sir," she protested.

"He wants you to have it," Maglor said gently.

"Your friend?"

Maglor nodded.

She sighed, giving in. Maglor realized that she looked tired and worn, though she was very young.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Evana Williams," she said.

"Well, Evana, take care of yourself," Maglor said, putting on his coat and wrapping his scarf around his throat.

"Thank you, sir. I will." With a smile and a wave, she walked off.

Maglor smiled back and headed out the door, letting it shut on its own.

Tomorrow he'd see Glorfindel again.

For the first time in more than eight Ages, he felt cheerful. Perhaps things _weren't_ as bad as he thought they were.

_Try to cheer up_, Glorfindel had said.

Yes, that's what he would do. It wouldn't be easy. But then, everything was easier when you had a friend.

* * *

Elvish Translations: 

_Sulaid: _Greetings

A/N: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed "Fated Meetings":

Ithiliel Silverquill: Thank you for all the lovely words and for noticing the formatting mistakes. My stupid keyboard causes a lot of problems!

Kalayna: I'd love to read that when it's done! And you're most welcome. I loved it, or it wouldn't be on my fav. stories list!

BanbieBunny: Something tells me he'd be very protective of his harp. Thank you!

Cyhiraeth: I love Maglor, as well, and thank you for reading!

Ellfine: Thank you, and I'm glad you liked it!

Das Blume: Thank you for the compliment, and it was an AU, meaning I let some of the Elves stay here. I just think it's a cool idea.

Rhys: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for putting this on your blog! (squeaks again) Thank you for all the wonderful compliments, and in truth, I put in Glorfindel just because he's a really cool character. Thanks again!

A/N: If you review, please don't curse! It will be appreciated.


	2. A New Friend

Simple Conversation

A/N: Well, I've decided to continue this, though it _was_ supposed to be a one-shot. Many thanks to everyone for your kind reviews, and extra thanks to Rhys for all the ideas she gave me for this story. It was enough for quite a few chapters! Reviewer responses can be found at the bottom.

* * *

_Chapter Two:_ _A New Friend_

Glorfindel was annoyed into consciousness by a persistent buzzing noise. He groaned and smacked the top of his alarm clock, hitting the snooze button. As he burrowed back into his blanket, a single thought drifted into his mind.

_I have to cover a parade tomorrow morning…_

Now where had he heard that before?

Everything flooded back to him. The parade! He tumbled out of bed, nearly falling over (being tangled in the blankets), and stumbled into the washroom. He quickly splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, combed his hair. He never bothered to pull out of his face, which was better, considering the length and shape of his ears. No one questioned it, either. He was an artist. Everyone just assumed he was eccentric. He hurried into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee, adding way too much sugar. Since he had it in the Middle East a couple centuries ago, Glorfindel had become a coffee-addict, though American coffee tasted nothing like Arabic coffee. The latter was much stronger.

He grabbed his clipboard, jacket, and hat and locked the door behind him. With a grumble, he sprinted into the elevator. The parade was taking place a couple streets over. Thank Elbereth he lived downtown.

* * *

Evana stood at the corner, her arms crossed in a vain attempt to ward off the cold, which bit through to her skin despite the thick leather of her coat. She was quite surprised when someone – a tall someone – stepped up beside her and said, "Why, hello again!" 

She looked over to see the blonde man from the café the night before. "Oh, hi!"

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said. Shyly, she added, "Thank you so much for the tip."

He shrugged. "It wasn't much."

"Oh, but it was!" she protested. "It was very kind of you."

"I'm glad to help," he said, smiling gently.

Evana looked down at her feet. What else to say?

"Well, you know I'm a waitress," she said after a time, "but what do you do?"

"I'm a journalist. Actually, that's why I'm here. I have to write about the parade."

"Oh, really?" Evana tried to sound interested, but other things weighed on her mind. She was late two weeks with her rent, and that didn't bode well for her, considering she was an orphan, and had nowhere else to go.

"Yes," he nodded. "What's your name?"

"Evana Williams. And you?"

"Laurence Fendell."

Evana gasped. "_You're _Laurence Fendell?" she asked in shock.

He raised his eyesbrows. "Ye-e-es. Why?"

"I love your articles!" she cried.

"Well, at least someone does," he said ruefully.

"What do you mean?" Evana asked.

"My boss isn't too fond of them. That's why I get stuck writing about parades."

"I especially liked the one you wrote a couple months ago. The one about aid to Africa?"

Glorfindel – or rather, Laurence – grinned. "That one almost got me fired."

"Really?" Evana asked incredulously. "That's ridiculous!'

"You are an amazing maiden," Glorfindel laughed.

Evana blushed at the compliment. "Thank you, sir."

"Here comes the procession," he said, almost contemptuous. A long line of drummers and baton-twirlers came down the street, with blaring trumpets and tubas. Glorfindel grimaced as the sounds assailed his ears.

Evana laughed. "Don't like brass bands?" she asked.

"No, unfortunately."

They watched the parade go by, Glorfindel scribbling down hasty notes about the people in it and the amount in the procession. He wrote about the balloons of cartoon characters that floated and bobbed overhead, the flower-covered floats that glided by. _How shallow they are_, he mused, feeling greatly annoyed. When it finally passed, he slipped his pen into his pocket and turned to Evana. "Thank you for keeping me company," he said with a bow.

Evana giggled. "Will you be at the café tonight?" she asked.

"I'm supposed to meet a friend there," he said.

"The dark-haired man?"

Glorfindel nodded.

"Then I'll see you tonight," she said.

"I look forward to it, Evana." He began to walk away, then turned back to her. "Is everything all right?" Being an Elf, he could tell something was wrong with her, though she hid it well.

"I'm fine," she said. "Why?"

"I was just wondering. If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm always free."

"Thank you, Mr. Fendell. I'm fine."

"I'm glad to hear it, Miss Williams," he tipped his hat and ambled off.

Evana sighed. If only she could tell someone. But she'd always kept her problems to herself, and intended to stay that way.

* * *

Maglor entered the café for the second time in two days. Glorfindel sat at the same table that they'd sat at yesterday, but this time he was typing away like mad at a laptop. He'd tap the keyboard, then frown, erase, tap again. He seemed deep in thought, but looked up at Maglor as he sat down. "Hello, finally." 

"Always late, aren't I?" Maglor asked wryly.

Glorfindel nodded, but began frowning and typing again.

"What are you working on?" Maglor asked, getting up and leaning over the back of Glorfindel's chair.

"That hateful article for Mr. Hobbit," Glorfindel muttered.

They chatted about their day and made plans to go to the museum the next day, just to see what mortals made of history, and see how accurate they were.

Evana didn't show up the whole hour and a half they were there. To his own surprise, Glorfindel was slightly worried about her.

He and Maglor left at the same time that night, and waved to each other as they strolled off in opposite directions. As he passed a row of apartment buildings, he heard sniffling noises. Turning to see what the problem was, he was startled to see Evana sitting on the steps of one building, her arms wrapped around her knees and tears streaming down her face.

"Evana?" he asked.

She looked up and gasped when she saw him. Her hands flew to her face in an attempt to wipe away the tears. "M-Mr. Fendell?"

"Is everything all right?" he asked, walking toward her.

"Yes, everything's fine."

"No, it's not," Glorfindel scowled. "If it was, you wouldn't be crying."

"It's nothing."

"Tell me, Evana. Perhaps I can help you."

Evana sniffed. "I'm going to be evicted from my apartment in three days."

"Why?" Glorfindel cried.

"I can't pay the rent."

Glorfindel reached into his pocket. "How much do you need?" he asked, pulling out his wallet.

"Oh, no, Mr. Fendell!" she protested. "I couldn't!"

"Evana, you can't get kicked out. Do you have family that can help you?"

She simply shook her head.

"Fine. You won't accept money from my pocket? Then I'll help you earn the money."

"Why are you so determined to help someone you don't know?" she asked.

"Because you remind me of someone. Someone who was like a daughter to me, and lost much too early."

"But I'm not that someone," Evana said sadly.

"That doesn't mean I can't help a damsel in distress."

"I can assure you that I am no damsel in distress," Evana laughed.

"Well, you _are_ a damsel, at any rate."

"How do you intend to help me?"

"Do you write?" he asked.

"A bit of poetry," Evana shrugged.

"Do you have anything you'd like to publish?"

"You would do that for me?" she asked.

Glorfindel grinned. "There's a contest going on in the newspaper, and if you win, you can win 200."

Evana eyed him suspiciously.

That time he laughed. "I don't intend to cheat! If you win, you'll get the prize money."

"I suppose I'll try," she sighed, without much confidence.

"But! I'll only help you if you'll let me pay your rent if you _don't_ win."

Evana sighed again. "I refuse to letyou pay my rent."

"You have so little faith in yourself?"

"I do."

He looked at her intently. "You need to let others help you," he said quietly.

"But I can't be a beggar," she insisted.

"You aren't," he replied. "I'm _offering_ to help you."

"But two hundred dollars, Mr. Fendell? People don't just _give_ each other that much money."

"I do."

Evana smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Fendell."

"You're welcome. Go in and get some sleep. And you can call me Lor."

She smiled wider. "Thank you, Lor."

With a much lighter heart, he made his way to his apartment. At least one soul was eased in this bewildering world.

* * *

Reviewer Responses: 

Kalayna: I'm glad you like it, and I like Evana, too. I don't know if she's part of their line, but since there's no way to know, I like to think that she is.

Rhys: I think they'd be very good friends, myself. ;) I must say, however, it's _your_ fault I continued this. You gave me _ideas_! See what happens when I get ideas!

Ellfine: I must read your work. I've so much to do, but after all the reviews you've given me, it's only fair. I'm really glad that you liked the first chapter, and something tells me that this will continue for a while.

sqrt(-1): I'm very glad that you liked them! Here's another chapter!

BanbieBunny: It's okay that you don't update as quickly, because that makes me dance and rejoice when you _do_. In my opinion, I think I update _too much_. But that's okay with me. There you go, you little hinter. Out of curiosity, is this Banbie or her brother?

Cyhiraeth: I'm glad I've got you into reviewing again! And I've continued it some more!

Vana Tuivana: I am honored that you like this, and I didn't think about Maglor's relationship with Elrond when I wrote it. I did fix it, however, and many thanks to you for pointing that out to me!

jillian baade: I'm glad that you like it, and (hee, hee) I wasn't ready to end it. Blame plot bunnies!

A/N: Does anyone have a suggestion for Maglor's name? I'm lost.


	3. Memorium

Simple Conversation

_Chapter Three: Memorium_

_Maglor sat in his tent, the only barrier between him and the bitter cold. He wore a heavy cloak to keep out the chilly damp, and sighed every now and then. After what seemed forever, the tent flap opened and Maedhros stumbled in, clothes and copper hair dripping._

_"I could not find them," he whispered, letting go of his sword as if it stung him and casting it to the ground. "I looked everywhere. I could not find them."_

_Maglor didn't reply. He took hold of Maedhros' shoulders and led him into the tent, sat down beside him._

_"I could not find them," he said again. His face was wet, but whether it was from rain or tears, Maglor couldn't tell._

_"Shh," Maglor commanded. "You are wet through, and ice to the touch." He wrapped Maedhros in his cloak, and was about to get up when his elder brother caught his wrist in his hand._

_"Did you not hear me?" he demanded. "I searched for Dior's sons! They were nowhere to be found!"_

_"I heard you, brother," Maglor said, pulling his hand away. "There is naught you can do. At least you tried."_

_Maedhros seized Maglor's shirt. "Why can't we stop this? Celegorm, Curufin, and Caranthir are dead! We are murderers! We have spilt more blood than there is water in the seas! Our own kin shuns us! When will it end? We can never cast aside this oath!" His voice broke with sobs._

_"I know," Maglor said quietly, pulling Maedhros close. He held Maedhros as he wept, and outside, the sky wept with him._

Maglor sat up in bed with a gasp. He'd dreamt of Maedhros again. Though his heart broke over and over every time he did, he couldn't stop the dreams from coming. He remembered that night so well that it might have happened the night before. With a sigh, he dropped his head into his hands and wept as Maedhros had ages ago.

* * *

Maglor was always an early riser, and today was no exception. He sat at his window, plucking ancient songs out of the harp in his lap, watching the sun rise gold and blood-red over the sea. Outside, two little boys ran down the sidewalk, dark hair poking out from under knit caps as they giggled and chased each other. 

_Elros climbed into Maglor's lap, causing the harp strings to jangle as Maglor struggled to keep his balance. _

_"What do you need, Elros?" the harpist asked, laughing._

_"Ada, can you ever play anything other than those old ballads?" said the Elfling, tweaking a couple of discordant notes from the instrument._

_"Well, what would you have me play?"_

_"I know not what exactly. Perhaps those lively tunes the Men play? The ones where they dance like this!" Elros demonstrated by sliding off the older Elf's lap and doing a little jig in front of him, his bare toes stirring the sand as he kicked and hopped._

_Maglor laughed. "You could be a Man yourself, the way you leap about like that."_

_"Ada, you are changing the subject!"_

_Maedhros sat next to them with Elrond in his lap, his scarlet hair rippling in the sea breezes. He grinned. "That is because your Ada does not wish to play music that he considers so…undignified."_

_Maglor smacked his shoulder. "That is not true. I just enjoy the old ballads."_

_"Indeed," Maedhros said solemnly. "Or you simply do not know how to play the new!" He leapt to his feet and fled as Maglor chased him, leaving the Elflings to giggle in the surf._

Maglor laughed at the memory. He and Maedhros had shared many moments like that with Maglor's foster sons Elrond and Elros. And now he was probably the only one to recall those things. Maedhros and Elros were long dead, and Elrond was now in Valinor. He sighed. Their oath had destroyed so much, had left him cursed for eternity, yet some good came out of it, as well. He'd had Elrond and Elros, for one thing. He had experienced another land, and had watched the history of Arda progress, had seen its wars and dark ages, its advancements and peace. He'd known Leonardo da Vinci and had sat in the Roman Forum. He'd seen the Crusades and slavery in Africa. He'd witnessed friends die. He'd watched sunrises and sunsets, had known every day and night. But he was weary and his Elvish glow had dwindled.

And he was trapped.

* * *

Glorfindel strolled down the sidewalk happily, his hands clasped behind his back, whistling a merry tune. He and Maglor had had to postpone their museum visit until Monday, because the harpist had forgotten he had to perform that night. 

"No Mr. Hobbit to deal with today!" Glorfindel said to himself, watching cyclists roll past and joggers go by, headphones in their ears. Despite the chill, it was a bright day, and the buildings cast long shadows across the streets. It was Saturday, and most people had the day off. But not all.

He headed off to the café and stopped by the window, peered in.

He sighed in relief. Evana was at work, looking much cheerier than she had the night before. She gave one man a mug of coffee with a smile, and as she turned to go back behind the counter, she caught sight of Glorfindel. She grinned and waved, then beckoned him in. With a nod, he obliged.

"How are you, Lor?" she asked as he approached the counter.

"Fine. And you?"

"Better than last night," she said honestly. "I've already got a few tips put away."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "How much?" he asked.

Evana sighed and blew a strand of hair from her face. "Twenty dollars," she said.

"And when is your rent due?"

"Monday."

"So you intend to raise two hundred dollars by Monday, when it's noon and you only have twenty?"

"Yes!" she said defiantly.

Glorfindel looked at her determined face and tried to stare at her sternly. It didn't work. Instead, he burst out laughing. She glared at him, but he could tell she was trying to hold back a smile.

"Don't try to fool me, child."

"Child?" she asked, looking confused. "You're not much older than me, or you just look really young."

"I just look really young," Glorfindel said. "I've been through a lot. More than you know."

"Well, you get out of here and do whatever it is you're supposed to be doing," she said, scowling. "You're keeping me from my work."

Glorfindel pretended to look hurt, then bowed chivalrously and said, "I am most sorry, fair lady. I shall take leave of you now and let you complete your duties."

Evana giggled and waved him off.

* * *

Reviewer Responses: 

BanbieBunny: Okay, then. Just wanted to clear that up. You need to update soon! And I'm glad you like this.

Ellfine: Aw, thanks! (blushes) I appreciate it. And you'll find out more about Evana soon. I'm keeping her.

Rhys: Yay, you like it! (hugs) Thanks for pointing out that typo. Embarrassing, it was. Whoa. Yoda-mode kicking in. And don't worry, there'll be much more!

Mirfein: Thank you! (bows) I think I'll just keep Maglor, though. Glad that you like Evana. Here's your update! And thanks for reviewing "Befuddlement"!

Kalayna: Ah, yes, to torture the siblings with things they have no idea about… I do it all the time. Glad you like her name. I'm thinking of just leaving him Maglor. And thank you for reviewing "Befuddlement"!

Tindumiel: My, you're _very _clever! Yes, Evana _does_ come from Evenstar. Great job! And I was planning on having Celeborn and Daeron show up, and the twins will wander in eventually. They travel a lot. But who's Jeff Buckley?

Ithiliel Silverquill: I'm glad you like it so much! (hugs) It's good to see you here. Yes, Glorfy the coffee addict. I'm not too fond of coffee, but I do like French Vanilla. Mocha's so-so, but otherwise, give me tea. And _more_ Evana! Here's your update!

Cyhiraeth: Happy to see that you like it. I think I'm just gonna leave Maglor's name Maglor. People will probably just consider him foreign. It should work. Thanks!

A/N: Thank you all! Seventeen reviews for just two chapters! I really appreciate it!


	4. Musings and Meetings

Simple Conversation

_Chapter Four: Musings and Meetings_

"It does look a lot like him, doesn't it?" asked Maglor, gazing at a bust of the Roman emperor Julius Caesar. They had gone to the museum that morning, Glorfindel having called in sick to work, sending Mr. Sutherland, also known as "the Hobbit", into a raging fit. Maglor had to admit, however, that Glorfindel had done a _very_ convincing stuffy nose.

"It does," agreed Glorfindel, his arms folded on his chest, studying the statue. "But his chin protruded a bit more…and there's something about his nose…"

Maglor chuckled. "His nose?"

"Yes," nodded Glorfindel. "I don't know what it is, but…" He pushed up the sleeves of his black sweater and knelt down in front of the bust, staring at the nose. He was determined to figure out what it was. Maglor stood embarrassedly beside him, blushing as a pair of college girls ambled by, giggling at the former Elf-Lord.

"Glorfindel…" Maglor murmured, nudging the blonde Elf's leg with the toe of his boot.

"I have it!" exclaimed Glorfindel. "The bridge of his nose used to have a bump. They took it out here."

"Well done. Now get up! People are staring!"

Glorfindel stood and pushed his hair over his shoulder. "I tell you, they always try to glorify everyone, and end up twisting the stories."

"Twisting isn't the word," huffed Maglor. "Ripping apart is more like it."

"Wouldn't I know it," said Glorfindel sadly, shaking his head. "I was at Wounded Knee when that massacre took place."

"You were?" asked Maglor, surprised.

Glorfindel nodded. "I was a trader at the time, and I got stuck there when the soldiers surrounded the settlement." His eyes grew shadowed. "There was the most beautiful little girl, only three or four years old at the most. She was always laughing. I danced with her one night, and you should have seen her stomp around that bonfire. She was - " he broke off. Maglor laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "She was killed by those soldiers."

"I'm sorry," whispered Maglor.

Glorfindel scoffed. "Soldiers. Ha! Murderers, I would say."

"When did you come over here?" asked Maglor.

"I came with the early colonists," said Glorfindel.

"So you were in the Revolutionary War?"

Glorfindel nodded. "I fought with the colonists." He laughed. "I took part in the Boston Tea Party."

Maglor grinned. "Decked out like a native?"

"Aye, my friend. Feathers, face paint – I felt like a peacock!"

"I was in Ireland at the time," said Maglor.

Glorfindel gazed at him. "You always stay by the sea, then?"

Maglor nodded. "I feel drawn to it."

"As do I," replied Glorfindel, tugging on a strand of hair.

They were both silent for a while, their minds filled with tangled thoughts. The quiet was broken when the young women who'd laughed at Glorfindel came back with a camera.

"Could we photograph you?" asked one of the girls. "I'm an art student, and you two are perfect models for a piece I'd like to do."

"You want to…draw us?" asked Glorfindel, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"If that's all right?" the girl said, nodding.

Glorfindel and Maglor exchanged looks, and grinning, Glorfindel said, "Go ahead."

The girls looked delighted, and began snapping pictures. Glorfindel was relieved that they allowed photos in this particular museum.

After the girls bid them farewell, the Elves laughingly headed off to an Elizabethan jewelry gallery.

"These mortals know nothing of jewels," said Maglor. "You should have seen my father's creations." He looked troubled. "Especially the Silmarils," he added ruefully.

"I have, and they were magnificent," whispered Glorfindel, lowering his voice as a group of young students in uniforms passed, their teacher calling them down the hall. "These poor mortals know nothing of the past, nothing of the great deeds of our people. And those of their own."

"The mortals of the past caused more problems than they solved. The Numenoreans brought about their own fall," Maglor said.

"Aye," Glorfindel agreed, "but I feel compassionate towards them. They are lost."

"How can you feel compassion for such warlike creatures?" asked Maglor. "They still war among themselves, to this day. If they were Elves, they would be labeled kinslayers. So how can you feel for them?"

Glorfindel looked at him. "The same way I feel for you," he said gently.

Maglor turned to him in surprise and gazed at him wordlessly. "Thank you," he said finally.

"One does not need rewards to give kindness," said Glorfindel. "It is not like wealth. When you gain wealth, then give it away, you lose. When you are given kindness, and you give it away, you only get more in return."

Maglor was speechless. Unable to reply, he hugged Glorfindel.

With a laugh, Glorfindel returned the embrace.

* * *

That evening, after the museum had closed, Glorfindel and Maglor were headed back to the café, the autumn wind sweeping orange and red leaves around their shoes and blowing back their hair and scarves.

"I'd like you to meet someone," Glorfindel said as they walked into the café.

"Who would that be?" asked Maglor, sitting down at their usual table.

"Do you remember that girl who we said looked like Arwen?"

"Yes," Maglor said, raising an eyebrow. "What about her?"

"Well, she and I are good friends now," explained Glorfindel, hanging his coat on the back of his chair.

"When did this happen?" asked Maglor.

"I'll explain later," said Glorfindel. "She's coming now."

"Hi, Lor!" called Evana, walking up to their table. She nodded to Maglor. "Hello, sir."

"Hello, Evana," smiled Glorfindel. "I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Maglor Fëanorion."

"That's an interesting name," she said, shaking hands with Maglor. "I'm Evana Williams."

"It's Italian," lied Maglor. "It's nice to see you again, Miss Williams."

"You, too," she said. "What can I bring you?"

"Ah, espressos, as usual," said Glorfindel. "Why don't you join us? It's not busy," he pointed out, glancing at the only other people there, who were a pair of elderly women and a young girl who looked like a Goth.

Evana looked around. "I suppose I could for a few minutes," she said.

As she hurried off, Maglor said, "She certainly is a nice child."

Glorfindel nodded. "Determined, as well. She had to pay her rent today, and was two hundred short on Friday. I don't know if she got together the money she needed, but seeing how cheerful she is, I think she was successful. She would not let me pay it for her, though I tried hard to get her to."

Maglor looked mildly surprised. "She is very strong."

Glorfindel nodded. By then, Evana was coming back with their coffee.

As she sat down in a chair she'd pulled over from another table, Glorfindel asked, "So, how did everything go today?"

"I did it!" she said happily, taking the top off of her cup and blowing on the liquid inside to cool it.

"You were able to come up with enough?" he continued.

Evana nodded. "And I have some extra."

"That's great," Glorfindel smiled.

"And I didn't even need your help."

Glorfindel laughed. "You could still submit a poem if you like," he told her. "The contest closes Friday. It's only Monday."

"I wanted to," she said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Here you go. I _can_ give it to you, can't I?"

"Of course!" Glorfindel said. He took the envelope and put it in his coat pocket.

"So, did you ever live in Italy?" Evana asked Maglor.

"Yes, actually. I came from Rome," answered the harpist.

"Really? Have you ever been to the Colosseum?"

"Many times," said Maglor, remembering the gladiator fights he'd avoided during the time they were popular. They'd always made him feel sick.

He and Evana chatted for a while as Glorfindel looked on amusedly. The old women and Goth girl left eventually. After a couple hours, the door jangled open and two dark-haired young men stepped in, laughing.

"And then, the idiot tried to run you down with his motorcycle!" exclaimed one, nearly doubled over with laughter.

"Elladan? Elrohir?" asked Glorfindel.

The men looked up at him. "Lor!" they cried happily, dashing over to him. Two seconds later, Glorfindel was buried under the twins, who were attempting to embrace him at the same time without suffocating him.

"My nephews," he told Evana with a wink.

"How are you?" asked Elrohir.

"Fine," Glorfindel laughed, a hand on the younger Elf's shoulder. "Where did you two blow in from this time?"

"Hong Kong," said Elladan. "Elrohir learned a bit of Cantonese while we there."

"Yes, I did," Elrohir said defensively. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," said Glorfindel. "I have some friends I'd like you to meet." He gestured to Maglor. "This is Maglor Fëanorion," he said, glancing at them as surprise flashed across their faces. "And this is Evana Williams," he continued.

The twins' faces were a mixture of sadness and shock. Quickly, Elrohir forced his expression into one of welcome. "It's nice to meet you, Evana," he smiled.

Evana looked unsure, but she shook his hand. "You, too."

Elladan followed his brother's example.

Glorfindel sensed the tension and discomfort. "Well, I believe we need to be going, Evana, so if you'll excuse us…"

"Of course, Lor," she smiled, looking slightly relieved. "It was good to see you."

Glorfindel nodded. "I'll turn in your entry."

"Thanks. Goodbye!"

The Elves bid her farewell and left, but Elladan lingered.

"Do you need something?" asked Evana.

"I know it seems a strange request, as we don't know each other, but may I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Can I…hug you?" he asked hesitantly.

Evana's eyes widened, and she laughed nervously. "That _is_ a strange request, but…I suppose you could."

Elladan sighed and hugged her quickly and tightly. When he let go, he looked furious with himself. "I'm sorry, miss. It was a very weird thing to do."

"It's all right," Evana said.

"Thank you," he whispered. He then ran out the door, leaving it to crash shut behind him, along with a very confused Evana. Elladan knew it had been strange, but for a moment, it had really felt like he was holding Arwen again, able to hug his sister once more.

* * *

Reviewer Responses:

Mirfein: I always felt bad for Maedhros, too, and I see him as a more sorrowful person than cruel. I liked writing the Elros scene. I'm glad you like my writing, and thank you very much for the compliments and for putting me on your fav. lists!

Rhys: I'm glad you liked it! I really want to capture Maglor's grief of all that happened. I hope I've succeeded. As for the "man dancing" – that was meant as slight foreshadowing for what happened later. I know all about those orchestra harps, and that is indeed what he plays. Thank you for pointing that out. I'd thought about that beforehand, so don't worry. I enjoy writing Evana and the friendship growing between her and Glorfindel. I'm glad you like her! And now you know Mr. Hobbit's real name! And thank you for pointing that error out. One question, though – what's chai?

curious one: I'm glad you do. Here's your update!

BanbieBunny: Good to see you! I'm glad you like it. I don't know where it's going, myself!

sqrt(-1): Thank you for pointing that out. I fixed it! (slaps self) I'm stupid sometimes. There you go! More Elves! And no, Glorfy and Evana won't fall in love. She's too much like Arwen for him. It would be weird. I'm happy you like it!

Sunflower in the Shadows: I thought it was very interesting. But why did you remove it? I'm glad you like this one. Here's your update!

Kalayna: I'm glad you you're happy. You certainly deserve the review _and_ the fav, because that was an amazing piece of writing. Thank you for reviewing this, and I'm glad you like it!

Ellfine: (blushes) Thank you! I like Glorfy and Evana's relationship. There was your "next installment"!

jillian baade: I'm interested too. I don't know, myself! Thanks for the review.


	5. Grief

Simple Conversation 

_Chapter Five: Grief_

_

* * *

_

In the arms of the angel,  
_Fly away from here  
__From this dark, cold hotel room,  
__And the endlessness that you fear.  
__You are pulled from the wreckage  
__Of your silent reverie,  
__You're in the arms of the angel  
__May you find some comfort here.  
__-Sarah MacLachlan, "Angel"_

* * *

Glorfindel stopped as they left the café.

"What is it?" asked Maglor when he noticed.

"I'll catch up," Glorfindel told him. "You and Elrohir go on ahead."

Maglor eyed him a moment, then walked on, pulling a curious Elrohir with him. Glorfindel turned back to the café door, waiting for Elladan to come out. He saw him hug Evana, then slam through the door and pass him. Glorfindel ran after him and grabbed his arm. Elladan swung around to face him.

There were tears in his eyes.

"Elladan, I saw that," Glorfindel said quietly.

Elladan said nothing, his eyes trained stubbornly on the sidewalk.

Glorfindel grasped his shoulders, cursing the doggedness of Men. "She's not your sister," he said, trying to lift Elladan's gaze.

Elladan looked up at him. His eyes were full of grief, sorrow that had lasted for four ages, that had built and lifted and strengthened. It had been tearing his soul apart in an agonizingly slow way, breaking his heart with an iron grip. "She looks so much like Arwen. I couldn't help myself." He slumped against Glorfindel, his hands grasping the older Elf's jacket. "I miss her so much," he whispered.

Glorfindel pulled him close, resting his cheek on Elladan's head. "I know," he said. "I do, too. But we have to accept loss, and move on." Against his will, he remembered Arwen's laughing face, the light dancing in her eyes. She'd been like his own daughter, they had been so close.

"But I've lost so much. I don't think I can take much more," said Elladan between sobs. "First, Ammë left, then Ada, then Arwen and Estel died…" He trailed off.

"I know," Glorfindel said again, rubbing his back soothingly. "But think of what you still have. Me, and your brother, and the whole world."

Elladan didn't reply, but his body crumpled even more. Glorfindel held him tightly as the wind blew past them, tugging at their jackets and hair. The stars started to come out, barely visible from the bright lights of the city. He had to be a father to the twins now, as their own had left for Valinor. They had no one else but each other. It was up to him to ease their sorrow. He didn't mind. He wanted to help, having known so much pain and suffering in his own life that he wanted to take it away from others. He'd always helped people; it was what he did. He patiently waited for Elladan to finish crying. He had to release the pent-up emotion, or it would destroy him. The younger Elf's frame shook in Glorfindel's arms.

"Are you all right now?" he asked as Elladan finally pulled away.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Then let's join the others," Glorfindel said softly, draping an arm around his shoulders in a tight hug and leading him down the empty, darkened street, their footsteps echoing around them.

* * *

Reviewer Responses:

Mirfein: I love sticking them in historical places. It's really neat to try to make up scenarios. I like angst. (grins evilly) Poor Elladan and Elrohir! Thank you so much. You're really, really sweet.

curious one: Aw, it was? That's really nice of you. I'm glad you like it. Did I update soon enough?

Kalayna: Thank you! I love writing this story and exploring different emotions and characters. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

BanbieBunny: I was hoping that line would be liked! (grin) _I _don't even know what was going on there. I like the quote from "Willy Wonka" (love that movie), and I need to go read the next chapter of that! Thanks!

jillian baade: The Maglor question will be answered next chapter. Thank you!

sqrt(-1): I love stories like that: they're so realistic. I'm happy you find mine enjoyable. Ah, Maglor. That question will be answered next time!

Yyunesprith: Ah, but no one believes in them more than ME! (laughs) It's supposed to be sad, and happy at the same time. That's how I see life. Thank you!

A/N: I'm sorry this chapter was so short, but I thought it was fitting. And the lyrics seemed to fit the scene. Thank you, everyone!


	6. New Acquaintances

A/N: You all have my most sincere apologies for making you wait so long for an update. I hope you'll forgive me, as I've been busy. Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers for your kind words and support! Please R and R!

Simple Conversation

_Chapter Six: New Acquaintances _

"So, you're truly Maglor, Feanor's son?" asked Elrohir as he and Maglor went slowly down the street.

Maglor nodded solemnly. "Indeed."

Elrohir was speechless. He glanced back at Glorfindel and Elladan. They were still standing in front of the café. Then he looked up at the much-taller Maglor. "Were you my father's guardian?"

Maglor was silent for a long while, making Elrohir feel uncomfortable. It was like waiting for a stormcloud to burst. You knew it would, you just didn't know when. He clutched his coat tight against his body and stared down at a few dry, brown leaves as they whispered along the sidewalk.

"I was," Maglor said finally, surprising Elrohir, who jumped.

"Why did you not come to see us?"

"I could not," the older Elf said, tilting his head back, his eyes on the velvet-black sky. "Not after what I'd done…Elrond had moved on, and so had I. I would have been ashamed to see him again." He looked down again, shaking his head. "No. It is better that I didn't."

"Is it true that you are the only one of Feanor's children left?" Elrohir asked.

Maglor stopped and turned to him. "You are inquisitive, aren't you?" He smiled faintly, a sad, reminiscent dimness in his eyes. "You're like your father. He was always curious, always into things. You have his dark hair, but your eyes are different."

"I have my mother's eyes," Elrohir said, the same bittersweet expression on his face.

Maglor sighed deeply and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You are young. Your life should not be so riddled with losses, but you have lost almost as much as I."

"We have both lost much," Elrohir said, his gaze on the pavement at his feet.

"Forgive me for not meeting you before," Maglor apologized.

Elrohir glanced up, startled. "What's there to forgive?"

Just then, Glorfindel slung an arm around Elrohir's shoulder from behind.

"So, shall we go to my apartment?" he asked cheerfully.

They passed the evening peacefully, sipping tea (Glorfindel had coffee) and talking about how they'd spent the last four Ages. The twins traveled a lot, and where currently taking their fifth trip around the world. When Maglor asked why they would do that, Elladan laughed and replied, "It's different every time."

Glorfindel was glad that the twins had so easily accepted Maglor, what with the Kinslaying business and that their father had been close to him. There was a comfortable air in his living room, one that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Maglor finally left, as he had a large rehearsal the next day for an upcoming concert. The twins decided to stay with Glorfindel for the night. They didn't have anything with them but a single suitcase of extra clothes and souvenirs from their travels.

As Glorfindel helped them pull out his sofa-bed, Elrohir asked, "How did you meet him?"

"Hmm?" Glorfindel was tired, and a bit dazed. Coffee seemed to have opposite the effect on him that it had on most people. It tended to make him fall asleep easier. He switched the lamp off, and the room instantly became a medley of grays, blues, and blacks in the nighttime darkness.

"How did you meet Maglor?" repeated Elrohir.

Glorfindel straightened up and looked at him. Quiet a moment, he went to the window and stared out at the night. A few cars zoomed past and the glow from the nearby buildings was bright. He placed his fingertips and forehead against the cool glass, the lights turning his golden hair white.

"I met him by the sea," he said simply.

The twins glanced at each other. It wasn't much of an answer.

Unexpectedly, Glorfindel gave a soft chuckle. "I wanted to see it again. I never get enough of it. And then out of the blue, here he comes with his harp. I walked right into him. Then we talked, and he played me a song in Quenya." He shrugged. "That's it. He called four months later, and we've been friends ever since." He turned to the twins, who had settled into bed. "Try to rest."

He ruffled their hair as he went to his room, still smiling. Then they heard his door click shut. Sighing, the twins burrowed into the blankets.

"What happened back there at the café?" asked Elrohir.

Elladan didn't answer for a while. Finally, he said, "That girl…the waitress…" He stopped, sorrow once more wrenching his heart.

"She looked just like her, didn't she?" asked Elrohir, staring at the blank face of the television screen.

"Yes."

"It's hard, isn't it? Everything just flooded back." Elrohir winced. "She looked so old the last time we saw her. Her hair was turning white, remember? I wanted to cry. It hurt. She was supposed to be the younger one."

"I remember," Elladan whispered.

"Why did she…?"

Elladan grasped his brother's hand. "Do not question the past. What's done is done. We can change nothing. Let us forget the pain." He squeezed Elrohir's fingers. "Please."

Elrohir sensed Elladan's grief. "Yes."

"Do you think Glorfindel plans to sail soon?" asked Elladan after a while.

Elrohir turned his back to his brother. "I hope not. I don't know what we'll do."

"We'll go with him."

There was no reply. Elrohir sighed and sagged into the flat mattress. Soon, the apartment was silent but for the light breathing of the three sleeping Elves and the ticking of Glorfindel's grandfather clock as the pendulum swung back and forth, back and forth, counting off minutes that held no meaning for those who had all the time in the world.


End file.
